The New York skyline was still cloaked in grey when Abhimanyu lit his third cigarette of the morning, standing by the giant window of his penthouse suite. His shirt was half-buttoned, jaw tight, phone pressed to his ear.
Tanvi (on call, from Mumbai):
"They're going for her throat, sir. The agency board. They've sent out an internal memo stating she might be let go. Apparently, the investors are spooked after the Kunal episode. And… they're blaming her."
Abhimanyu: (coldly)
"Of course they are. Because why own up to cowardice when scapegoating a woman works faster?"
He tossed the cigarette into a crystal tray, running a hand through his hair.
Abhimanyu (continued):
"Listen carefully. I don't want you to interrupt the meeting yet. But once the chaos hits its peak, once they think they've broken her—" (he pauses, voice low and calculated) "—walk in. Say this: AR Enterprises is officially interested in signing Meera Singhania as their brand ambassador."
Tanvi:
"Sir?"
Abhimanyu:
"You heard me. I'm done letting them treat her like a pawn. It's time they remember whose wife she is."
(He doesn't say it with affection. He says it like a warning.)
Tanvi: (smiling, tight)
"Understood, sir."
Abhimanyu:
"And Tanvi… if you see her in tears—tell those bastards it's already war."
————————————————————
Setting: Mumbai — Interior, Boardroom of Zenith PR & Talent Agency
A massive rectangular table dominates the room, walls lined with LED panels displaying charts, revenue sheets, and branding breakdowns.
Meera, in a powder-blue pantsuit, sits near the far end, straight-backed but clearly under siege. The CEO, Mr. Sidharth Batra, presides at the head of the table.
The board is mid-discussion — voices sharp, tone accusatory.
Board Member 1:
"This entire London fiasco was a PR nightmare. And no clear statement from your side, Meera."
Board Member 2:
"We lost Rajput Global Holdings as a potential investor after the Kunal mess. And don't act like you don't know what happened to him."
Board Member 3:
"This is a crisis. And in crises, someone must be accountable."
Meera clenches her fists in her lap. Her throat feels dry. Her jaw still aches faintly from the bruising.
She swallows hard.
Meera (quietly):
"I am not accountable for someone locking me in a room and assaulting me. And if none of you can see that, then this isn't a team—it's a firing squad."
Suddenly, the CEO's assistant, a young man in a headset, leans in and whispers something into Mr. Batra's ear.
His eyes widen.
He glances at Meera, suddenly unsure. Then stands.
Mr. Batra (to the room):
"Excuse me for a moment."
He walks out swiftly.
As soon as he comes outside,
Standing there, composed and dressed in sharp black with her ID visibly clipped, is Tanvi. Flanked by two suited bodyguards in discreet earpieces, she hands a sealed folder to the CEO.
Mr. Batra (reading quickly):
"AR Enterprises?"
Tanvi:
"Mr. Abhimanyu Rajput has authorized me to initiate official dialogue regarding signing Ms. Meera Singhania as his brand's exclusive face. Global scale."
Mr. Batra (shaken):
"He didn't… mention this before."
Tanvi (curt):
"He doesn't mention. He acts. That's why he's not sitting in meetings getting blindsided by his own employees."
She raises an eyebrow.
Tanvi:
"Also… I'd be careful how your board speaks to her moving forward. Some reputations come with very long shadows."
Mr. Batra looks stunned. He takes a breath, nods stiffly, and walks back in.
The board is still arguing when Mr. Batra re-enters, but this time, he's visibly subdued.
He takes his seat, signals with his hand.
Mr. Batra (firm):
"Enough."
The room falls quiet.
He turns to Meera.
Mr. Batra:
"Meera, a representative from AR Enterprises is outside. You've been formally requested for a potential global ambassadorship."
Murmurs erupt in the room.
Meera blinks. She didn't expect this. At all.
Mr. Batra (to the room):
"Moving forward, I'd advise this board to treat Meera Singhania with the respect she deserves. Because evidently, there are powerful people out there who already do."
He meets her eyes.
Mr. Batra (gently):
"You're dismissed for today, Meera."
She gets up slowly, still stunned.
Just before she walks out, she sees Tanvi waiting outside the door. Tanvi doesn't say anything—just gives a small nod.
And Meera's eyes well up again.
But this time… with relief.
————————————————————
OUTSIDE THE CONFERENCE
Tanvi walks beside Meera down the corridor, her sharp heels echoing, the bodyguards silently following at a distance. Meera is quiet—eyes glazed with emotion, but her steps composed. Her jaw clenched.
They stop near the elevators.
Tanvi (softly):
"They deserved that silence. You didn't owe them a single word after what they threw at you."
Meera doesn't respond immediately.
She takes a deep breath, then glances sideways at Tanvi.
Meera (quiet):
"Can I speak to him?"
Tanvi nods, pulling out her phone. She dials. The screen flashes ABHIMANYU RAJPUT.
She waits.
Tanvi (into the phone):
"Sir… she wants to talk to you."
She hands the phone to Meera without another word.
ABHIMANYU POV
Abhimanyu is standing by his massive glass window overlooking Manhattan, a file in his hand, shirt sleeves rolled up. He doesn't speak — just waits.
Meera (soft but clear):
"I heard what you did."
A pause.
"I'm grateful, Abhimanyu. I really am. But don't… do this again. Not for my career. Not behind my back."
He remains quiet. She presses on.
Meera (sharper):
"I've built everything I have without favours. Without using your name. I'm not about to start now. I don't want the world whispering that you made my career."
There's silence for a beat. Then his voice, low and even.
Abhimanyu:
"You are my wife."
That lands heavy.
Abhimanyu (calmly):
"If something goes wrong — especially because of me — then I'll be there. Whether the world knows you wear my last name or not."
He pauses, then adds:
Abhimanyu:
"I don't do favours, Meera. I take responsibility."
There's a lump in her throat now. She doesn't know how to respond to that.
Her voice falters slightly.
Meera:
"I'll send Tanvi the campaign briefing by tonight. I'll take it from here."
Abhimanyu (soft):
"I know."
He hangs up.
————————————————————
HOTEL SUITE
The golden glow of the Mumbai skyline seeps through the balcony, casting soft reflections across the marble floor. Meera stands by the vanity mirror, tying her hair up, still in her post-meeting attire — an oversized white shirt tucked into beige trousers.
Her phone buzzes.
Rizwan Calling…
She answers.
Rizwan (cheerful):
"Tonight's the night, superstar. We're going clubbing. You, me, Tara, Jiya, Naomi — full house. Half the industry is going to be there. The vibe? Very Vogue after-party. You in?"
Meera (half-smiling):
"Riz, you know I don't like clubbing unless it's mandatory."
Rizwan:
"It is mandatory. All the top businessmen and potential collaborators are attending. Your name's buzzing again, Meera. You need to show face."
Meera:
"I know… but the guards won't let me leave quietly. And I don't think he will think this is a good idea."
A pause.
Rizwan (a little sharper now):
"He doesn't own your career. And I don't work for him. You're still my client — remember that."
Meera sighs, glancing toward the guarded door of the suite.
Meera:
"I didn't say he owns anything. But you know how this looks — me sneaking out, cameras flashing, and one text from a guard to his phone."
Rizwan:
"Then don't sneak. Just go. Like a free woman."
Meera (calmly):
"Free women don't usually have four bodyguards posted outside their hotel room."
Rizwan (sighs, quieter):
"You're not free, are you?"
Meera is quiet for a beat.
Meera (softly):
"I'll figure it out. If I go… it'll be on my terms. But I need to tell him."
Rizwan:
"You sure he won't stop you?"
Meera:
"He might. But I'd rather fight that than lie."
Rizwan:
"Fair enough. But Meera… you shine in spaces like that. Don't let anyone dim that, not even him."
She nods faintly, ending the call. She doesn't move. Just stands there, staring at her reflection — caught between who she is and who she's allowed to be.